A/N: Update number two on 11/5/11! I'm on a roll for a week of NOT posting! Again I am so sorry about that!
Cal pulled me forcefully out of the Stage Coach and I found myself face to face with my furious parents. "Where the hell were you?" my father snapped in my face. "Far from here," I said, miserably wiping my wet eyes dry.
It didn't work.
I continued to cry. I couldn't get the feeling of Cal's greedy hands on my body to go away. I felt absolutely icky! "I'm going to bring her back to the house if that's fine with you," Cal said. My eyes grew wide in fright. NO! I didn't want to be alone in 'our' house with Cal! Not with Cal!
Not with Cal!
"Very well," my father said in an incredibly sojourning voice. "Come Charlotte," Cal demanded. To my father it sounded like a prodding of comfort.
I followed Cal… but out of fear, not loyalty. I only followed him because I'd become incredibly afraid of him…
I shuddered realizing his touch still lingered disgustingly on my skin. I wouldn't be able to scrub enough to get the feeling off. I settled for protecting myself by crossing my arms over my chest.
I walked into the house my parents had given us. It was the same as when I'd run away… broken pieces of china still lay on the floor…
The only difference was the lingering and sickly sweet smell of alcohol.
"W-why do I smell beer?" I asked, still covering my chest protectively. "Why does it concern you?" Cal snapped. Touché, I mentally said, flatly. I stuck my nose to the air, and turned away from him…
…
By this time, I was sitting in "our" room, sitting on "our" bed, reading. Night had fallen much too quickly, and the house was ominously quiet.
Cal was in the parlor, getting piss-drunk.
Cal had, earlier, placed me under bedroom arrest. I couldn't leave the house—let alone the room—without Cal coming with me or at least aware of my whereabouts. If it was another room, he stood by making sure no sound of "escape" came from the room. If it was out of the house… he was to come with me.
Bastard.
Somehow with how already piss-drunk he was, I could run.
But it didn't work.
He slapped me hard across the face—I realized it was more painful when his vision was like foggy, stormy water-like—and ordered I return to the bedroom where he would join me later.
That was what I feared… After this afternoon in the Stage Coach when he… I couldn't think it… I feared he would… I couldn't think that either.
I heard him stumble and scuff his way into the room. He looked horrible.
One would go as far as to say atrocious even!
I kept low under the covers before he'd come into the room. I didn't want him to know I was awake. I stayed under the covers not moving an inch, one eye slightly open.
His hair was all over the place… His shirt was wrinkled and his tie was undone, halfway over his left shoulder. He had dark bags under his eyes and he looked even more threatening than before.
I bunched the blanket, silently, closer to my body seeking comfort. I pretended to sleep, and I was glad he was drunk enough to buy it.
He climbed into the bed and I felt the familiar dip in the center of the bed, telling me he was moving closer. I tensed up, but I tried to relax. Who slept like a freaking stone? Not anyone I knew…
He didn't notice my sudden tense. He flicked off the bedside lamp and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly fearing the darkness consuming me—and his close proximity to my still fearful body.
He shifted so he was facing my back. He pulled me gently toward him and it took all my courage not to shriek. My breathing was uneven suddenly and my heart was about to leap out of my chest and kill me right there.
He just held me though…
He drew light patterns on my exposed arm and I was shocked, if not surprised. He was being… well… he was being…
Gentle.
He kissed my temple,, still drawing light, slow patterns on my arm. They weren't really shapes… they were just little circles and lines.
Suddenly I felt guilty. If he could be this nice… Why didn't he show it? Even if it was just to me? I felt guilty because I was so focused on what I felt was fair to me and I pushed his buttons when it was clear I hadn't even heard half of the freaking story.
Before I knew it… I was getting sleepy. He continued to draw light patterns on my skin and the last thing I felt before letting sleep consume me was his hand sliding down my arm to draw the patterns on my exposed thigh.
…
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of severe lurching. I knew Cal was finally throwing up the amount of alcohol he had inhaled the night before.
There was a light groan as Cal walked out of the small bathroom. I looked at him, realizing he had no idea I was awake. I could feel the light patterns still on my skin… they had drowned out the pain he had caused me before last night.
I smiled.
"What are you smiling at?" he snapped. I forced back the retort that sat on my tongue, egging me on. "Sorry… just thinking, Cal," I said. I was glad he had bought my lie…
He scowled and opened his dresser drawer. He dressed quickly, as though he were being removed from his home in ten seconds and stormed out of the room.
I didn't get out of the bed until I heard the front door slam. I slipped out from under the covers and dressed quickly. I was going to get out of here… maybe not for good… I mean, Cal was actually human toward me…
I would give him a chance…
That was the least I could do after all this.
I slipped on a floor-length, red velvet dress and walked into the parlor.
I would give him a chance…
One…
A/N: So? What'd you think? :D See, Cal has a soft side!